A Heated Debate Between Two Charismatic Geniuses: A Cardinal Fan (Jeff Lung) and a Tiger Fan (Allen Krause)

Results tagged ‘ Miguel Cabrera ’

On Thursday, in what became a Red State Blue State first, my once respected colleague and amicable opponent Allen Krause, officially gave up on his beloved Detroit Tigers. Though they’re only 7.5 games back of the first place White Sox, Mr. Krause could not help but revert back to his status quo of negativity, sighting that the Tigers’ outlandish payroll and futile mediocrity was just too much — an endeavor he hadn’t the heart nor the patience to endure. It caused shockwaves throughout baseball, causing these guys to say:

Honestly, this really shouldn’t be all that surprising to me; but in an odd sort of way, it is. We are US Americans. US Americans don’t give up. We never give up.

When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, did we sulk and cry and feel sorry for ourselves?

No.

Down three games to none in the 2004 ALCS, did the Boston Red Sox give up against the Evil Empire simply because the odds against them winning were next to none?

No.

And what about the spirit of US Americans after 9/11, the Bush administration, a flailing economy, tarnished foreign policies and an ill-conceived war of shadow chasing? Did we all just throw our hands up in the air and ‘throw in the towel’? NO!

When one loses hope — when he loses his identity, his affiliation for that which brings him joy — when he loses his propensity for positivism and forces his bleak outlook on the world using the headline Keep Ya Head Up, we — those who remain steadfast in our patriotic alliances to all things good — have no choice but to denounce and reject both the negativity monger and his infectious ideas.

You fooled me, Mr. Krause. You had me thinking you were with the Tigers all the way — unconditionally. Yes, you fooled me. You know, they have an old saying in Tennessee…

For future reference, Mr. Krause, if you’re gonna bail on your team, do us all a favor and please refrain from disgracing the hip-hop legend that is Tupac. He doesn’t deserve to be associated with your hapless despondency.

Because of you, he’s probably rolling around in his grave too. And by “grave” I do mean the champagne room in the back of a Las Vegas hot spot.

Since I never seem to find myself in a place that my hometown (from across the state) Tigers like to visit, I’m usually limited to one or two live games in a year. This year, I only had one chance and that day was last Saturday as Detroit visited Baltimore for what promised to be an easy four-game series. Well, let’s just say that neither the game nor the series went the way they were supposed to go. The Tigers hammered Daniel Cabrera in the first inning but then managed to not only let the Orioles back into the game but even found a way to lose it. And they dropped 2 of the four games. So, I’m not writing about the game or the series. I’m writing about what I saw at the game instead.

First off, If you’ve never been to Camden Yards, go. The tickets are cheap, the views are great and chances are that if you came to watch another team play the Orioles, you’re going to go home happy. However, I have a bone to pick with the management. Why can’t I buy a beer in a souvenir cup? I don’t want a Pepsi. I don’t want a Diet Pepsi. I want a beer and I want it in a plastic cup that has the Oriole’s season schedule and whatever happens to be the catch-phrase of the year on it. I do this everywhere I go and up til now it hasn’t been a problem. Personally, I’m a huge fan of the cup I got from Yankee Stadium because I can spit sunflower seed husks into it and it feels like I’m somehow spitting on the Yankees. That’s a good feeling. But how can I spit on the Orioles if they won’t give me a cup? Yes, I finally broke down and bought a lemonade because it was really freakin’ hot but a part of me is still outraged. It’s un-American.

And speaking of un-American, the Orioles tossed out a special welcome to the Venezuelan Embassy, employees of which happened to be in attendance at Saturday’s game. I suppose this shouldn’t have come as a surprise since half the players on the field had some sort of Venezuelan connection and we were only an hour’s drive from Washington D.C. And it was nice to see some of the Venezuelan players come through during the game; for instance, Miguel Cabrera hit a three-run shot in the first inning. But there’s just something a little strange about a group of people enjoying the classic American pastime while their president says things like: “I hereby accuse the North American empire of being the biggest menace to our planet.” I’m just saying…

But, despite the unfortunate ending to the game, the crowd’s even more unfortunate adoration of “the wave” and the disproportionately large and drunk meat-head a few rows in front of me, it was good to see my team play. It gives you a similar kind of feeling to the one you get when you find out that the blog you (kind of) help write has now moved up from fifth to fourth place in the standings. At this rate, we might even make the playoffs! There are playoffs, right?

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